Incarceration
by xMsAnaviax
Summary: Shepard reflects on her decisions that led to her incarceration, and on a certain drell assassin.
1. One

A/N: This story is based on a prompt from FemShep NET, and Bioware owns it all.

* * *

Incarceration was cold and unyielding, and Kate Shepard hated every moment of it. There was something foreboding about the paleness of the walls – of the single window that let so little of Sol's light shine through. Being the Savior of the Citadel earned here some comfort, even in captivity, but it was captivity nonetheless. She had little fondness for the "luxuries" of Earth. Her home had been taken from her at a young age, and since then she had belonged to the stars. Indeed, being held on Earth was no comfort at all – merely a different Hell with a decent view.

But this was a necessary visit to Hell.

She had decided on it what seemed like a thousand years ago when her guilt had finally consumed her. Throughout her ears in the Alliance – and, coincidentally, as a rogue – she had made the necessary decisions that no one enjoyed making. Ten civilians die now as opposed to hundreds if a mercenary band isn't followed and eradicated; lives are sacrificed in order to perform unethical research, but how many more lives will be saved because of that research? The ability to see the galaxy-wide impact was part of the reason she was who she was. Some may have viewed her actions as cold, but she preferred to consider herself a realist.

Surrender was a word she had never known, and yet here she was. Shepard, frankly, did _not_ surrender. On Mindoir, as she watched her entire life fade to ashes, she did not surrender – she fought to escape. On Acuze, as she watched her team fall one by one, she did not surrender – she fought to avenge their sacrifices. Hell, she hadn't even surrendered to death. Yet, somewhere in the midst of saving the galaxy, dying, being resurrected, and saving the galaxy again (twice), she had discovered a voice of reason – a voice that would prompt her to surrender when her time came, and she found that voice in the most unlikely of men.

The assassin had astounded her from the beginning. She had met many mercenaries in her day, even a few assassins, but she had never seen a drell before. Other than what she had read in his dossier (skimmed, more like it), she hadn't know what to expect, and consequently spent much of her free time in the Life Support room, feeding her curiosity until one day, not necessary as suddenly as it seemed at the time, it became something else entirely.

She slowly began to surrender herself to him – speaking of things long ago dead, she found herself growing stronger in his council and understanding. Over time, his spirit softened hers, and had it not been for his influence over her, many things would have turned out very differently. Legion would have been tossed out the airlock, if he would have even been brought aboard in the first place, The Illusive Man would have gotten his Collector base because what he had told her made sense in its own wicked way, and she certainly never would have turned herself over to the Alliance, Alpha Relay be damned. Considering how she felt even now, after surrendering, she knew the guilt of a thousands dead would have consumed her.

Unlike many of the more difficult decisions she had made throughout her years in the Alliance, the events that had transpired at the Alpha Relay could not be ignored. Her kill count had shot through the roof, and if the Alliance didn't bring her in, the batarians would, assuming her own guilt didn't kill her first. The days following the destruction had been difficult. When Thane wasn't next to her, deliberately speaking of happier things, she was constantly assessing Harbringer's words to her (You have only delayed the inevitable), and then the nightmares began.

Receiving the Prothean cipher back on Feros had resulted in a fair share of nightmare, but those were fantasies in comparison. Even in the comfort of Thane's arms, the horrors persisted. Hundreds of thousands of voices, and entire civilization, a prominent species, screamed at once, only to be snuffed out entirely in a single moment – not by the Reapers, but by her. When did so much power become hers to command? When did she become as the Reapers themselves?

What haunted her most of all, the very root of her doubt and irrepressible guilt, was that she had been given the chance to save them, and she hadn't.

Their blood was on her hands alone.

She had hid the truth from Thane at first, after she had watched planet after planet decimate before her very eyes as the relay was destroyed. Yet, he had a way of revealing what she tried to hide from him, for better or for worse. At first, he had said nothing, but quickly followed his silence by repeating the same knowledge she had told herself at the time of her decision – it wouldn't have made a difference, they didn't have the time or resources to escape anyway. His ability to stand behind her, even on such a dreadful event such as this, warmed her heard, but the guilt remained. The fact of the matter was, the ruthless calculus of it all, she was the Great Commander Shepard, and if she had taken the time to warn them, she may not have had the time to escape. She was more valuable alive than as a martyr, and though she could see the logic in there, somewhere, she knew her conscience would have been more clear if she would have taken the mere seconds necessary to warn them all. Perhaps they _would_ have died anyway, but at least they would have had a chance.

Thought the stresses of command were now gone, and there were no more missions to rush to complete before time ran out, the nightmares still remained, and there was no smooth voice of her drell in her ear telling her that everything was going to be fine, even though they were two of the handful of people in the galaxy who knew it wouldn't be.

Her nightmares troubled her, but that was a personal torment, one she did not let show to her subordinates or superiors. The treatment she received from other members of the Alliance she had contact with was a mixture of fear and respect, which she was used to. She wasn't, however, used to the tireless cycle of the court systems. It had been months since she had made her stand on trial, and now her "fate" was being tossed around to the mercy of the courts. It was bullshit and she knew it. Even being held here was nothing less than a formality. Hackett had arranged for her to be here, no doubt to keep her out of the hands of terrorists and countless other factions that wanted her dead (even more so than before). Batarian-Human relations had never been ideal, but since her destruction of the Alpha Relay they had worsened considerably. Batarians were murdering humans on sight, just on principle, and as a result many human splinter groups had formed and made their hatred for Shepard known, as if her death would solve their problems.

Shepard, however, was safe and sound, thanks to Hackett, but she preferred to consider herself politically trapped. Her life was not positively boring, with nothing but her nightmares to grant her in excitement, and masochistic as that was. With her life lacking its normal excitement, her cybernetic scars had finally begun to fade. Dr. Chakwas would be proud, and she was pleased to see her eyes return to their normal green once more as the red under-glow faded.

Each morning she examined herself, watching the far too quick progression back to how her face had been before she died. There was almost something haunting about it, as if she was viewing an old photograph of herself. When the scars had finally closed completely, a worry edged on her consciousness. Would Thane even recognize her anymore? It had been months, and now she barely looked the same. But, as a memory emerged, she shook the idea from her head. Thane loved her "strange human eyes", and he had told her so on many occasions.

_She awoke to find him staring at her. His eyes lingered on her own for what would have been an uncomfortable amount of time, if it had been anybody else. "Your eyes are…strange. They are quite other drell eyes."_

_ "Do I offend?" she offered playfully._

_ His response was a warm smile. "They are unlike any I have ever seen, even of humans. They are captivating."_ _He brushed his smooth fingertips across the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and she trembled at his touch. "Blue in the morning, but green by evening – ever changing as the sea itself, but I find them even more beautiful than the sea of Kahje." Now, his hand wandered beneath her chin, and he pressed a kiss upon her lips. "As one gazes across the Encompassing, I could watch their delicate changes for eternity, my lovely Siha."_

The memory was a pleasant escape, and when she opened her eyes to gaze at her reflection again, she could almost feel his cool touch, and she shuddered. Her cybernetic scars had never hindered Thane from seeing her true eye color. His bioluminescent implants that the drell of the Compact received allowed him to see beyond the undertones, and for this she was selfishly grateful. Before her death, her eyes had been one the few outstanding features she had possessed and, for reasons she could not explains, she wanted Thane to see the best of her.

That evening, on the fourth month anniversary of her incarceration, she went bed aching for her Thane, and wondering if her drell thought of his Siha as often as she thought of him.

* * *

Eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse, and Thane Krios knew all too well. He could recall and relive every pleasurable moment spent with Shepard, but he could just as easily relive the pain of letting her go. Or, even worse, the pain in the eyes he admired so much when she finally spoke to him of the event of the Alpha Relay. He had only seen that haunting pain once before, when she had pulled the debris off of him after the destruction of human reaper on the Collector base, and it was painful to relive.

Their entire relationship revolved around the concept of time, but even with his imminent death always in the back of their minds, most of their memories together were pleasant ones. They had both died, and now that they were alive again, they were both determined to make the most of every moment.

Now, with Shepard incarcerated, those precious moments were wasting away.

His time was beginning to run short, but his need to see her again kept him from growing content in his illness. He had spent most of his time during her incarceration on remote desert planets, performing exercises and receiving treatments that Shepard had made his promise to do in her absence, but he could stay away no longer. Thus, he began his journey to Earth, and to his Siha.

* * *

It had been over a month since Anderson had resigned as the human councilor, and incidentally accepted the position of Admiral in the Alliance military. Since Shepard's incarceration, he had unofficially succeeded her as the sole advocate against the Reaper threat. Frankly, after years of political bullshit, he would gladly face down Harbinger if he was given the chance. In any case, returning to Earth was a huge relief. He owed Shepard a visit, and a pat on the back for stopping yet another Reaper invasion. Indeed, hers were large shoes to fill.

The last thing he expected to find in his temporary housing in Vancouver was a drell sitting on his couch. After a rather awkward greeting, Anderson realized he was one of Shepard's companions for the Omega-4 mission. Based on the reason for his visit, as he quickly explained, Anderson suspected the drell was more than just a mere companion. Here was an assassin, Thane Krios, who was asking for his help to pay a visit to Shepard. A formality, no doubt: the drell had infiltrated his apartment with no trouble, and based on the dossier's he had received on Shepard's Cerberus crew, getting into Shepard's room would have been child's play. Yet, for some reason, Krios felt Anderson's approval was a necessary formality.

What he was asking was impossible, but Shepard had accomplished the impossible several times over, and she deserved to reap the rewards for once.

* * *

"Anderson? Playing hookie from the Council again?" Shepard grinned as she stepped back to let her former Captain enter her quarters.

He chuckled. "Hardly. Without you out there for me to stand up for, my place on the Council hardly seemed necessary anymore. And it's _Admiral_ Anderson now."

She grinned, and offered a half-hearted salute. "Congratulations, but I'm a little out of practice when it comes to military formalities. I haven't had to stand up straight in weeks." They shared a laugh as Anderson closed the door behind him. There was a beat of awkward silence, before Anderson began to pace away from her, his hands clasped firmly on his cap behind his back.

"I thought a visit was long over do, Shepard." He paused and gazed around her modest room. "So, this is the lap of luxury? Only the best for the savior of the galaxy," he murmured with a bitter edge to his voice as he added the final sentence.

"Well, I'm honored, sir, but don't you have a better things to do than visit a decommissioned officer?" she replied, her voice echoing the bitterness.

She saw him look up towards the ceiling for a moment, before he turned back towards her. "I, uh, thought I'd bring you a gift", he stuttered (since when did Anderson stutter?). Before she could voice her question, he pulled a wine bottle from behind his back, which he had apparently been hiding beneath his cap.

"Oh," she stammered, "how lovely, but you're not quite my type…"

He smiled and set the bottle on the table before heading for the door. "Have a great evening, Shepard. You sure as hell deserve it."

Shepard watched him leave her quarters with her mouth slightly agape. What the hell had that been about? She stared at the door a few moments longer, before turning her gaze towards the wine bottle Anderson had left behind, and towards the most beautiful view she had seen since her incarceration.

Thane stood before her, his eyes trained upon her as though he were expecting her to disappear at any moment. Her mouth slid open even further, "Thane…" The word fell from her lips with the weight of four months of longing, and suddenly she was in his arms and his lips were exploring hers. Her eyes were wet with joy as they took a moment to just hold each other.

"Siha, I…"

She put a finger to his lips. "Me, first," she smiled, "I've missed you more than I know how to describe. I missed you more than I would have ever expected." She planted a quick kiss on the bottom of his chin, before gazing into his dark eyes. "I love you, Thane."

"And I, you, Siha."

The floodgates gave way, and they gave into their desire for each other. That night, Shepard would have no nightmares as she slept in the comfort of her drell's arms. He alone reminded her of what it felt like to be normal. He alone convinced her that beyond the bravado and the Cerberus upgrades, she was still just one woman, and it was okay to ask for help from time to time. He alone believed in her, even when she no longer believed in herself.

Their love was a dance, and though he saw her as his Siha, his warrior angel, he would always be her salvation.


	2. Author's Note

Thank you for reading! This short fic was for a contest on FemShep. Right now, votes are being tallied. If you would like to vote for my fic, please go to:

femshep DOT ning DOT com/ forum/ topics/incarceration-by-xmsanaviax

Voting ends August 6th. When the voting period is over, I plan on adding on to this fic. There is more I wanted to do with it, but the word limit kept me from doing so. So stay tuned, and thank you again for reading!


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